Finding Light in Darkness
by BlackBird497
Summary: The war is over and students are returning to Hogwarts. However, the war has changed them all. But how deeply has it wounded Hermione Granger? And will the person to save her be the person she never expected?
1. Chapter 1

Hermione stared out the window, watching the rolling countryside go by. She sighed. She had thought that once the war had ended everything would go back to the way it was, but that was naive. The wizarding world was still in chaos, people were trying to rebuild what had been destroyed, but it was a hard feat with such little hope or trust left. Hogwarts, however, was trying to set an example and had reopened its doors. All students were invited to come back to finish their education, although the student population had decreased significantly; many families did not want to part so soon after the war. Hermione was one of the few older students who had decided to come back to complete their 7th year. Proffesor McGonagall was now headmistress and Professor Slughorn had stayed on as Potions Master. The Defence Against the Dark Arts professor was still a mystery. Hopefully, it would be announced at the feast.

Harry and Ron had also decided to return, although Hermione suspected that Harry only returned because Ginny had. Hermione didn't quite know why Ron had returned. After Voldemort's defeat, he had thrived in the limelight; feeling, for the first time, like Harry's equal. So, she didn't know why he had decided to go back to a place where the media could not follow, where his actions would not be front page news. Secretly, she hoped that he had returned because she had, but she doubted it. They had shared a brief romance at the end of the war, but it had quickly fizzled out. Ron had told her that he thought they were better off friends, it wasn't her, it was him. It was so predictable of Ron to just use the old cliches. Didn't stop her loving him though.

A tremor ran through Hermione's body. Ron and Harry didn't realise how lucky they had been to escape the war with no physical side effects. Healers did not have great hope for her, not that she'd told anyone that. The cruciatus curse Bellatrix Lestrange had thrown at her time and again had done unspeakable damage. The obivous was the tremors that often shook her body, but her bones and muscles were also damaged – some beyond repair. She also had scars around her wrists from where she had been bound too tightly and she often rubbed them unconciously. One of the hardest things for her, though, were the dreams that still haunted her.

As soon as the war had finished Harry had thrown himself into his relationship with Ginny, and they were inseperable. He had confided in Hermione, telling her that as soon as Ginny had finished at Hogwarts he was going to propose, and was already looking at houses in Godric's Hollow that would be suitable. He was going to buy a ring, but changed his mind at the last moment, as he wanted Ginny to be able to choose her own ring. His complete devotion to her always made Hermione slightly jealous. Not because she wanted Harry for herself or anything like that, but because she wanted someone to feel that way about her. Anyways, when Hermione has once brought up the subject of nightmares Harry had laughed, saying that he didn't have any and that hers would pass in time. She had felt hurt at how he had just brushed it off, but she never brought it up again.

Ron was different. Their 'relationship', if you could call it that, had lasted only weeks. He loved the fame that came with being a war hero; he loved how famous he was, and how the press would follow him around. The more times he appeared on the front page, the happier he was. Hermione was the opposite. She was content to stay out of the spotlight. She wanted to keep her life private, and the injuries she had sustained. It would be a lie to say that she wasn't much more self-concious than she had been before. It was funny the way she had finally managed to tame her wild hair, and had grown into her body, but now was self-concious for very different reasons. Hermione and Ron's different attitudes broke them up, but they remained friends. She had tried to bring up her nightmares with him also, but his reaction had hurt her more than Harry's had. He had told her that she was just being dramatic, that it had hurt everyone and she shouldn't act like it only affected her. He had said she needed to stop looking for attention, and they never spoke of it again. So even though Harry and Ron were still Hermione's two best friends, they had been spending more time apart as she tried to rebuild herself.

And so, Hermione sat on the train which would take her back to Hogwarts; the only home she had. After everything that had happened, all of Hermione's caution and attempts at protection, her parents had been killed. In a very muggle fashion they had been killed in a car accident and there hadn't been a drunk driver or anything like that; no-one Hermione could blame. It had simply been an accident. Hermione quickly wiped at her eyes, feeling tears welling up, just as she heard the compartment door open.

"Guys, there's somebody already in here; if you could call her somebody. She's more like a nobody." Hermione heard the pretentious voice of Pansy Parkinson. Pansy Parkinson was, in Hermione's opinion, the definition of stunning. Pity that she was snobby, bitch, though. Hermione heard another voice, deeper so presumably a boy, ask who it was. Somebody else, however, just barged in and sat down.

"I don't care I want to sit down and everywhere else is full." Hermione found herself shocked. She hadn't turned her head to see who else was there, but the boy who had sat himself down had a voice that sounded like melted chocolate. Slowly, she turned her head. Platinum blonde hair and silvery, grey eyes met her line of vision. Draco Malfoy. He saw her and smirked, and at that precise moment, a tremor shook through her.

"Aw, look at the little mudblood, trembling at the sight of her betters," Malfoy's smirk grew as Pansy and the other boy snickered. Hermione looked further and saw that the other boy was Blaise Zabini. "What, mudblood, nothing to say? Are you finally learning your place?" Malfoy continued smirk but he recognised how the girl in front of him had changed. She looked older, more mature, but there was more to it than that. The fight had gone out of her eyes, they used to light up with this fire when she got angry; when he baited her. It was gone now, and Malfoy noted it with an odd sense of sadness. Hermione had met his gaze but after he turned away she stood up to leave. Self-conciously, Hermione wrapped her arms around herself but as she turned to walk away, yet another tremor overtook her and she fell-right into the waiting arms of Malfoy. He caught her and she was surprised that he didn't just let her fall, or drop her. But he didn't do either of those things, in fact, he even held on a little too long. Thrown even more off-balance by the way Malfoy was looking at her, Hermione quickly regained her composure and ran out the compartment.

"Stupid little mudblood! Can't even stand up!" Pansy taunted, and her jeers rang in Hermione's ears as she made her way through the train.

It didn't take long for Hermione to find Harry and Ron, and she also found Ginny in the same compartment. Harry and Ginny were sitting close to each other holding hands and occasionally whispering in each other's ears. Ron was sitting opposite them and he and Harry were talking about Quidditch. It appeared that some of the major teams were restarting, and every Quidditch fan from around the world was paying attention. Upon Hermione's entry they all looked up. She received an easy smile and hello from Harry, and a hello from Ron. Ginny merely gave her a half-hearted wave, but she tried not to let it bother her.

Despite what many people believed, Hermione and Ginny had never been close friends. It was more, they tolerated each other. One a fiery redhead and the other a sensible brunette, they often clashed and Hermione had often had a suspicion that Ginny was jealous of her. Ginny had always had a crush on Harry and even though Hermione didn't feel that way about him, she was one of his best friends. As irrational as Ginny's jealous over Hermione and Harry's relationship was, Hermione could, in a way, understand the jealousy over Hermione's relationship with Ron. Once again, she was one of Ron's best friends and when Ginny was around she was made to feel like the dorky sister who was too young to join; just like she had been too young to go to Hogwarts with her brothers and Harry Potter that first year. Despite Hermione being able to understand it, she knew that it was unfair on her; those things weren't her fault. So Hermione had come to terms with the way that she was never going to be able to be friends with Ginny Weasley.

As Hermione sat down she looked at the two boys in the compartment. They were so different to when she had first met them. They had been eleven years old; so innocent. So much had changed. They had seen too much, done too much. Harry was not that little boy anymore. He had grown, definitely, and was one of the tallest boys Hermione knew. And there was a different look in his eyes; he had seen horrible things and done horrible things. Nothing could ever change that. Hermione was and had always been his confidante. He told her things that he couldn't tell anyone else, not even Ron. When they had been recovering from the war, he told her how all he had ever wanted was to be normal, and more importantly, how he had only just accepted the deaths of his parents. He said that, childishly, he had hoped that once Voldemort had been defeated his parents would come back to him. Fate would bring them back as a reward for doing everything he had. Harry had cried in Hermione's arms and whispered his grief; whispered how much he missed the parents he had never known. No matter what, Hermione knew they would always be best friends, siblings.

Ron had also changed. He had always been tall, and was still taller than Harry, but while Harry had filled out, Ron was still skinny, gangly. However, he had lost some of his freckles and his hair was no longer such a vibrant red. In short, he had become quite attractive. The bad side of it was, though, that he was no longer the happy, easy going boy Hermione had first befriended. He didn't like to think of the war, so many bad things had happened, so he just didn't think about it. His ego had inflated to ten times its size and because he was always in the papers, he had become a bit of a womaniser. They weren't as close as they used to be and, failed relationship aside, Hermione didn't really know why that was. The train was slowing to a stop and as Hermione began to move she suffered another tremor. Harry gave a sympathetic but encouraging smile, which she returned, but Ron and Ginny gave her nothing more than exasperated glances. She didn't want a lot of attention, but she would've appreciated a little bit more.

The group made their way off the train and through to the carriages but were separated in the crowd. Hermione found herself alone, especially since she walked slower and much more cautiously now. She made her way over to the last carriage, but as she stepped up another tremor hit her. She cursed the timing as she fell back, expecting to land on the hard, dirty ground. However, a pair of warm, strong arms caught her instead. Once again, she found herself staring into Draco Malfoy's eyes after he had caught her. He helped her into the carriage and followed her in, without saying a word. Hermione attempted to mumble a thankyou but nothing came out. Maybe, just maybe, Draco Malfoy had changed too.


	2. Chapter 2

**A:N:** **Hey guys, the second chapter for you. Please read and review. Thanks **

Draco Malfoy was the perfect embodiment of pureblood values, with one exception; he didn't believe in any of what he represented. The image that he chose portray was that of the spoilt, little rich boy, because it was easier to pretend that that was the truth, than accept the reality. While he was at Hogwarts, sometimes he could even convince himself that the lies he told were true. There were things about him, about his life, that the world would never know, and he was quite happy to keep it that way. What made everything easier for Malfoy, was that whenever he needed to, he could just adjust the facade. He had adjusted it many times in the past few years; adjusted for the Dark Lord, for his family, for Dumbledore, for his friends, for the Order of the Phoenix, for Harry Potter. There were times, when Malfoy couldn't even find Draco within himself. He was Malfoy, at least, that's what he let the world believe.

Despite what many people believed, Malfoy hadn't chosen to return to Hogwarts, both his mother and the ministry had told him exactly what he would be doing. His mother, of course, wanted him to finish his education. The ministry, well, it had been one of the conditions that gave him his freedom. His mother had secured hers when Harry Potter had testified at her trial; she had saved his life and risked her own. She was a woman trying her protect her family, and the ministry conceded. Lucius Malfoy was another story. He had been killed soon after the final battle by a die hard supporter of the Dark Lord. However, dead or not, the ministry had no reason to grant him the title of a free man, they remained hard-hearted and Lucius Malfoy's name would remain amongst the many other death eaters who had met their maker. Draco Malfoy had been cleared after much pleading from his mother, an excellent lawyer, and, surprisingly, the testimony of one Hermione Granger. Shocked was an understatement when describing his reaction. She had told the court that he was simply a boy, fearing for not only his life, but those of his family and friends. Granger had said that he was innocent, that he deserved a second chance. Of course, the ministry was not going to go against the word of a war hero; the brains of the Golden Trio.

Malfoy had not seen Granger since that day, and had absolutely no idea why she had done it. At his father's funeral, he had also thought he saw her there, but he couldn't be sure. That had been an awful day for him; not because he mourned his father, but because the man his mother loved was dead and she was completely destroyed. She had been distraught for several months, and for two weeks had refused to eat, drink or speak. That was the hardest part in all that had happened. Malfoy loved his mother, more than anyone, even her, would ever know. She was this shining star throughout his childhood; his superhero. When muggles go to school, and they are still young, they are often asked to write something about their hero. If Draco Malfoy had ever been given this exercise he would have written a thrilling tale of a superhero who was his mother, and the villain, his father. But, that was all in the past now, and he had seen Granger once more.

She looked remarkably different, especially to his eyes. She was much thinner, and not in a good way, for she had been thin before; now she was almost sickly. It appeared to be a nervous habit but she often rubbed at her wrists, and she shook at random intervals – he didn't know what that was about. Her hair was longer than she used to wear it, falling past her waist. It was no longer frizzy but fell in curls, and was golden brown in colour, like honey. There was something about her now, though, which scared him. The Granger that he had known always had a spark in her eye, and was quite easily provoked. The bait that he had given her on the train, well, he expected a fight; not curses, but a verbal sparring match. In fact, he had quite been looking forward to it. There was no way he could've predicted the reaction he received. The dead eyes, the hopeless expression, all diisplayed her fragility. Her fight had gone.

What Malfoy didn't realise was that Granger was not the only one who had changed. No longer the predictable, little boy who had been turned into a ferret, Malfoy had grown well over 6 foot and filled out due to Quidditch over the years, and exercise (Malfoy's were always well built, anyways though). He no longer slicked his unique, blonde hair back but grew it out slightly, and let it fall naturally, strands occasionally falling over his eyes. His eyes, the feature that never failed to make a girl swoon. Grey stormy eyes that seemed to pentrate right in to their soul; girls were falling at his feet. At Hogwarts, he had gained the name of Slytherin Sex God for a reason, having bedded the best looking girls from all of the houses. Incredibly intelligent, he could never beat Granger in classes, although admittedly, he didn't study half as much he should.

Many people thought that he was jealous of the Golden Trio; of the friendship they shared. What those people didn't realise was that he had the two best friends he could ask for; Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. Blaise was a ladies man, but unlike Malfoy who was all for the "wham, bam, thankyou ma'am", he was a charmer. And a horrendous flirt. Pansy, was much more complicated. Like Malfoy, she was often taken to be a pretentious, spoiled, brat, simply because that was she let people believe. Malfoy and Zabini were like brothers to her. And Malfoy definitely felt that Pansy was his little sister.

Malfoy glanced across the carriage, once again, at Granger. Her head was resting on her hand, and she was staring out the window into the darkness beyond. Again, he was struck her expression; her hopelessness. He would never forget the day she had brought to Malfoy Manor; the day his aunt tortured her. He himself had even tortured people during the war, but the resilient silence which had turned into reluctant screams never haunted him the way Granger's did. With some cunning and stealth he had managed to procure himself a dreamless sleep potion that he took every night. He wasn't in denial about the war, he actually thought about it quite often, but at night he just needed some peace. Without the potion, he would get only a couple of hours of sleep before he woke; sweating and panicked. It was not a nice feeling and that was what he chose to ignore.

The carriage pulled to a graceful stop in front of the castle, and as it did the skies opened and the rain came down. Malfoy quickly jumped out of the carriage and ran inside, but as he looked back he felt a strange sense of guilt as Granger stumbled and fell into the mud. By the time she made her way inside, she was soaked. Malfoy watched as she performed a quick cleaning and drying spell on herself, and wondered why she fell so often and why she hadn't just ran inside like everyone else; why did she walk so slowly and cautiously?

Malfoy was not given much time to ponder as the doors to the Great Hall opened, and everyone was ushered inside. He made his way over to the Slytherin table and sat himself down next to Pansy and across from Blaise. From this position he could sneak discreet glances at the Gryffindor table and at the girl who had begun to fascinate him so much. The Sorting Ceremony was over quickly as not many first years had returned. Then, Proffessor McGonagall gave her speech. She welcomed everyone back, and explained some of the changes which had occured. The most shocking announcement, however, was that the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was none other than Bill Weasley. Not surprisingly, the Gryffindor table went wild at the news. Even Potter and the Weasel looked surprised. The only one who didn't cheer was Granger. If anything, she looked apprehensive about the eldest Weasley becoming a Proffessor. What Malfoy was really waiting for, though, was the announcement of the Head Boy and Head Girl.

At the end of the feast, the headmistress stood once again. "Now, before you all go off to bed, I have one more announcement to make. All of the proffessors and I gave much thought to this decision. The Head Boy and Head Girl will have more responsibility than ever this year, as the world around us rebuilds and as we begin to heal. I am pleased to announce that this year's Head Boy is Draco Malfoy, and Head Girl is Hermione Granger." The two heads stood to thunderous applause from their own houses. Malfoy's smirk was the only sign that betrayed how pleased he was. Granger, however, stood with her hands by her sides and sat down as soon as she could. The dead expression never left her face. Once the applause had died down, Proffessor McGonagall spoke again. "Will our two heads please stay back so they can be shown to their new dormitories, and everyone else – off to bed." There was a loud scrape as benches were pushed back and everyone began moving off to their respective house common rooms. Malfoy and Granger remained behind, waiting.

Granger never looked at Malfoy, but she rubbed at her wrists and once or twice she braced herself against the table as tremors overtook her. The new headmistress gave them each a small smile, before instructing them to follow her. She lead them to the fifth floor and they stood in front of a portrait of two small children sitting on a bench. Proffessor McGonagall turned to face them and said, "I am expecting both of you to put aside old rivalries and set an example to the rest of the students. I hope you find your new accomodations comfortable. The password is 'exploding snap', goodnight."

Malfoy spoke the password and entered the room first. It was magnificent common room, smaller than the one in his house rooms, but there was only two people that would use this one. It was decorated in the reds and greens of their houses and had heavy, dark wood furniture. There were two couches in front of a roaring fire and a coffee table in between them. On the far wall there were two bookcases. He noticed that one was filled with his books, so he assumed the other was filled with Grangers. There were two sets of stairs, one leading to a door with a snake and the other a door with a lion. He made his way over to his door and entered his bedroom. It was decorated just as ornately as the common room, but with only Slytherin colours and with a large four poster bed. There was a door on the other side of the room and he assumed that would lead to the bathroom. Upon opening it, he saw Granger standing opposite him. Obviously, they would be sharing a bathroom.

Malfoy chose not to think anymore about Granger that night, and after drinking his dreamless sleep potion, had a peaceful night. Little did he know that in the room not very far from his, a haunted young girl tossed and turned. She tangled herself in the sheets and woke up sweating and screaming; thankful she had cast a _Silencio _on the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N:**** Hey guys, Please hit the little review button at the bottom and let me know what you think. I love reviews **

The first week of lessons passed quickly for Hermione. She spent much of her time in the library, and very little time in her room. Honestly, she was avoiding Malfoy. She told herself that she just wanted to remove herself from his presence so that she did not have to endure his name calling, taunting and cockiness, but really she was unnerved the way that he had caught her-twice-when she had fallen. He had made no nasty comment about it, and then the way that he had looked at her in the carriage on the way to the castle. Hermione Granger liked to be in control; she liked schedules and plans, she liked logic and reason. Lately, though, her life seemed to be rapidly spinning out of control. The tremors that threw her off balance, the way her muscles and bones would ache and throb when she forgot to take her daily potions, the memories that plagued her dreams and now, the way that Malfoy looked at her - the way he made her feel insecure, like he was watching her; observing her. It made Hermione want to scream, why was she no longer in charge of her own life? She had seen in a muggle movie once how the old neighbour told the young woman that she should be the leading lady in her own life and stop acting like the supporting role – or something like that. Hermione felt as if she was being forced into the supporting role.

Rubbing her eyes, Hermione closed the book in front of her. Only a week into the school year and she was already almost a month ahead of everyone else. She was desperate to finish the school year, and finish it at the top. She had just finished up an essay for potions and it was two scrolls of parchment long. Looking around the library, it appeared that she was alone, and after looking at her watch Hermione found that it was past midnight. Being Head Girl did have its privileges and they included that she did not have a curfew like the rest of the students, was allowed in the library after everyone else, and was allowed access to the restricted section. Rising slowly Hermione grasped the table for support. Piling her books high she cautiously made her way to the back shelves to return them. All but one resided on the lower shelves so she put them away first. Hermione was nervous about reaching up to the top shelves, but she knew she had no other choice. Standing on her tip toes, Hermione used her left hand to balance herself against the shelves and her right reached up with the heavy book. She had just slid the book back into its place when she began to shake; falling backwards.

For the third time, after expecting to fall painfully to the ground, Hermione fell into a soft body; strong arms caught her and cradled her into a warm, but hard torso. The tremors ceased and Hermione looked up to see the grey, stormy eyes of Draco Malfoy. He looked confused. As quickly as she could, Hermione stumbled out of his grasp, stumbling slightly along the way. A blush began to form, as she realised that this was rapidly becoming a recurring incident and how ungraceful and pathetic she appeared. However, Malfoy did not let her run away, as she would presumably do, he grabbed on to her shoulders, holding her out in front of him. Hermione raised her large, brown eyes to meet his and was stunned. No smirk, or sneer, or mocking expression crossed his face – only confusion.

If he was not Draco Malfoy and she was not Hermione Granger it could be said that his confusion was reflected through Hermione's eyes. It could be said that they stared into her eyes for what seemed to be an eternity. Before they both knew it their lips would meet, and as they did fireworks would go off and life as they knew it would end. They would fall madly and passionately in love. Nothing would be able to break them apart and their romance would be epic; lasting years and continents, lives would be lost and bloodshed in defence of their love. But that would not be real. For he was Draco Malfoy and she was Hermione Granger; one was a Gryffindor and one was a Slytherin. He was a pureblood and she was a muggle-born, and they were sworn enemies. So he held her at arm's length and looked at her with confusion, while she stared back with fear.

If they had been in this position two years ago, even one year ago, Hermione would have fought back with all her might, and probably would have won. She would have slapped him across the face (with quite some force), then grabbed her wand and hexed him. But that was then. She no longer had the strength, or wish, to fight and so she looked back – tiredly, and hopelessly. The boy in front of her was once again struck by how dead she seemed. Finally, he spoke.

"Why?" he asked. "I don't understand. Why do you shake? Why do you fall? Why have you given up? I just don't understand." He did not rush his words. He spoke slowly, with an even tone and measured pace.

"You don't need to understand?" she responded. Malfoy stared at her a moment longer, and then his grip on her arms slackened. She took advantage of the opportunity and ran, grabbing her bag off the table and sprinting to her room. Malfoy just looked after her before making his own way back to his room.

Hermione could not stop thinking about what had happened in the library and was more vigilant than ever when she cast the silencing charms on her room. She did not know what had gotten into Malfoy. She didn't know why he seemed so interested in her, and when he had cornered her in the library why hadn't he used the opportunity to hex her? It would have been the perfect opportunity to get his revenge for years of being thwarted by her and her friends. Instead, though, he had questioned her. In one week her worst enemy had noticed that which her friends had ignored for months, and Hermione didn't know what to make of it.

As always, Hermione was awake long before Malfoy and after showering and dressing she made her way down to the Great Hall. Only a few other students were already there, and she used the time to sit and think. She knew why her and her friends weren't as close anymore. They had grown apart, or the war had torn them apart; she wasn't truly sure which it was. When you had seen and done things that you wish you hadn't, when you use the curses that at one point you would have been ashamed to even consider, it changes you. Hermione, Ron, and Harry had done all of those things. Maybe that's why Harry was able to be so close to Ginny. Ginny had been shielded from the worst of things by her brothers, and by Harry himself. Or maybe, Hermione considered, it was her own fault they had drifted. She had too many secrets, now; too many things that she didn't want them to know about. Or maybe, it was their fault. They hadn't noticed the changes that had occurred in her; didn't have time for the way she hadn't been able to completely move on. That's what it came down to. Whose fault was it when friends grew up; grew apart?

Hermione felt a presence beside her and Harry sat down. He grabbed various breakfast foods and placed them on his plate. He didn't speak straight away. He didn't rush into things, as much, anymore. They ate their breakfast together and it almost seemed like the old times; almost. As was bound to happen to her, tremors rolled through her body and as they did Harry wrapped his arm around her waist. It was comforting, but she couldn't help but compare it to Malfoy – and it wasn't the same.

"Are they getting any better?" Harry asked as she stilled.

"No, they aren't. I know it's annoying." She smiled apologetically. He chuckled slightly.

"Don't apologise. It's far from being your fault. I'm sorry about Ron and Ginny, though. I think they just don't know how to handle it, you know? Especially Ron. He really beat himself up about when you were captured, he thought that he should have been able to protect you. And the um, effects, just remind him of that."

"It's okay, Harry. You don't need to apologise for them. I know it annoys them – it annoys me too." Harry pulled her into his side, hugging her. She smiled and thought that it definitely did seem like the old times. Their first lesson of the day was Potions and she and Harry soon made their way there.

Potions was different with Professor Slughorn. They hadn't really noticed it when they had completed their sixth year because they had been so distracted by Voldemort and his return to power. He was not menacing like Snape had been. He was more forgiving and more willing to provide help and instruction. He also rewarded them when they did well and provided them with interesting, yet achievable, assignments. The downside to the class, however, was that it was shared with the Slytherins. While there was no longer incredible favouritism of the Slytherins the rivalry between the houses was still intense. Hermione sat next to Harry, and while she expected Ron to sit on Harry's other side like he always did, he chose to sit next to Lavender Brown. From where Hermione was sitting she could see Malfoy out of the corner of her eye. As usual, he looked bored; bored with the class, bored with the people around him. Every now and then he would speak to Blaise Zabini who was seated next to him but the rest of the time he sat staring into space.

Slughorn gave them a new assignment that day; an assignment that would take longer than a single, or even a double, lesson. They would be brewing Polyjuice Potion, and he was partnering them up. Remarkably, Lavender and Ron were paired up, Harry and Blaise, and she was partnered with Malfoy. Obviously, there were more people in the class and therefore more partners, but they were the ones Hermione had paid attention to. She was not excited about being partnered with Malfoy, but when she looked across at him, he looked even less excited to be partnered with her. A feeling of dread grew inside of her and she knew that this assignment would not end well. The potion would end up fine, Malfoy was second only to her in their classes and she had brewed it successfully in her second year, but they would destroy one another. She just knew it.

Malfoy made it clear that he had no intention of moving from his seat, so Hermione gathered her things and moved into the seat Blaise had vacated. Hermione, once again, didn't know what to say around him, and simply sat and fidgeted; rubbing her wrists. After only a few moments Malfoy grew annoyed with her restlessness.

"Can't you sit still, you filthy little mudblood?" He spat. Hermione realised that what had transpired in the library was a one time thing. A momentary lapse of judgment had occurred and would not occur again. He was still a muggle hating pureblood, and that would never change. She felt a slight pang of regret, that she could not really identify the source of, before bowing her head and accepting things as they were.

"Sorry," she mumbled, barely audible, and she heard him sniff in contempt. Pulling her things together she began making a list of the things they would need and the preparations that they would need to do. The lesson could not pass quickly enough for her and as soon as the bell marking the end of the lesson rang, she ran out the room. Reluctant as she was to admit it, there was something about Draco Malfoy that affected her.


	4. Chapter 4

**A.N.:**** Hey guys. Here's the thing, I'm a bit of a review whore, and I haven't been getting any reviews lately. I would really love the feedback, good or bad. And, at the moment, I'm really struggling with writing this because I just don't have very much motivation to do it. So, I have been considering not writing anymore, if you do want me to please, please, please REVIEW. Thanks. Happy Reading! **

Draco had avoided Granger since that fateful Potions lesson, and he planned to avoid her for some time yet. The lacewing flies were stewing and the fluxweed could be picked the next week. Draco knew that he couldn't avoid Granger forever, but at the moment, she left the dorm earlier than he did and arrived back late at night. He assumed she spent her time at the library; the Golden Trio was slowly falling apart. Sighing, Draco attempted to empty his mind; too often did his thoughts dwell on the muggleborn he had loathed since the age of eleven. In all honesty, it scared him the way she haunted his thoughts. She had befriended the boy who had rejected him in their first year, in their third year she became the first person to stand up to him when she punched him, and in their sixth year she had been one who had thwarted all his plots. When he had witnessed her torture at the hand of his aunt, he should have felt delighted but he felt only pain and regret. And, if that was not enough, she had saved his life – deflected a curse sent by a death eater who knew of his treachery. Yes, this was the girl on whom his thoughts dwelt.

Draco walked quickly, aware that he was supposed to meet Pansy and Blaise at the Three Broomsticks five minutes ago. They hadn't had a good catch-up lately, and had deemed this outing necessary. It was a Hogsmeade weekend for all of Hogwarts but many had decided to remain at the castle. On his way, Draco noticed a figured not far from him, hunched over and sniffling. He didn't have time to stop and even if he did he wouldn't have. That was not his thing, and frankly, he just didn't care. In most cases, if Draco walked passed someone crying he would either laugh, mock or increase his pace. So, he did deserve his reputation of being a miserable human being. However, as long as his reputation as Slytherin Sex God was intact, he was happy.

Stepping into the Three Broomsticks, Draco noted how while the war had changed them all irreparably, some things could not be changed; could not be altered. The Three Broomsticks was such a place, it stood as the immovable rock and a symbol of what had once been. As always, it was full to overflowing with customers, and more than a few degrees warmer than outside. It was a slightly stifling atmosphere, and yet homey with the familiar figure of Madam Rosmerta behind the bar. Looking past the couples holding hands and romancing each other, past the forlorn looking Potter, Draco spotted his friends at a small table located in the corner of the pub. As he approached and they noticed him, they gave each other exasperated glances before greeting him.

"I know showing up on time is really uncool, but could you try it, I mean just once?" Pansy glared at him. He was one of her best friends but he really did annoy her sometimes.

"Yeah man, don't knock it til you try it!" Blaise winked. Draco glared at them.

"I really don't know why I'm friends with the two of you," he grumbled. They just laughed.

"So, how's living with the little mudblood?" Pansy tittered. But when Draco just shrugged, she taunted him further. "Ooh, no comment! Don't tell me you bed her? I had her down as a prude. But really Draco, she's so far beneath you! Don't tell me you did?"

"Ha, Draco's sleeping with the enemy! Was she any good? Oh, you have to tell us, was she a sweet little virgin? Or had she already done the dirty with the two idiots she gets around with?"

"Shut it!" Draco growled fiercely. He felt strangely angry with them for attempting to besmirch Granger's name. "Not only is the very idea that I would ever go there utterly ridiculous, but I barely even lay eyes on the filthy little mudblood, thank Merlin!" Draco did not get the chance to finish his rant as he realised that Pansy and Blaise were no longer even looking at him, but over his left shoulder. With a sense of dread, he slowly turned around. Granger stood there looking stunned and she and Draco locked eyes. There was no doubt that she had heard everything he had just said. However, it lasted not longer than a few seconds before her attention was called away. Draco, Pansy and Blaise eavesdropped unabashedly.

"You're nothing but an attention seeking little slut!" spat the Weaselette. Her brother scoffed.

"Gin, that's not true. Everyone knows she's a frigid little bitch!" Draco was shocked that this was how the Weasel spoke to someone who had been his best friend for over six years. Even more shocking was that Harry Potter, the-boy-who-just-wouldn't-die wasn't even sticking up for her. Granger sniffed back tears and Draco realised she was the figure he had passed. Granger turned her head slightly, as if trying to hide her face from her so-called friends, only to find the three Slytherins watching the scene unfold. Draco stared as she hesitated, and then fled. While Pansy and Blaise chuckled over the girl's misfortune, Draco sat and wondered, _what had happened to the Golden Trio? _

Draco, Pansy and Blaise spent the main part of the day at the Three Broomsticks talking about everything from Quidditch, to their parents, to the idle gossip that was always floating around Hogwarts. To the entire world they looked like three normal teenagers enjoying a day without school or homework. For a while, they could even convince themselves. But when they stepped out of the pub the harsh reality set in. There were wanted posters everywhere as not all of the Death Eaters had been captured, many shops were still closed and no one was out alone. Everyone travelled in groups. Secretly, Draco wondered if people would ever feel safe again; if the wizarding world could be saved. The ministry insisted that, given time, everything would be fine and back to normal. But what was normal, and could these wounds ever be healed?

Everyone arrived back from Hogsmeade in time for dinner and Draco went straight to the Great Hall upon his return to the castle. Butterbeer always made him hungry and he had had three of the drinks that day. He sat next to Blaise and across from Pansy, and for the first time since the beginning of the school year, he truly noticed the absence of Crabbe and Goyle. It didn't matter what others said, the two boys had been his friends since they were nine years old and their deaths during the war had come as a rude shock.

Looking over the house tables there were many changes, many people missing. Cedric Diggory, Colin Creevey, Cho Chang and her friend Marietta, Padma Patil, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott – just to name a few. People, who should've been there, weren't, and even the Slytherins were respectful of that; they had suffered their own losses. With a start, Draco noticed odd absences from the Gryffindor table, including Granger, Pothead, and Weasel. All of a sudden the doors to the Great Hall burst open and yelling could be heard. One voice could be distinguished as Weasley's. He seemed to be accusing Potter of cheating on Ginny Weasley with Granger. Potter was denying the claims and insisting that since the Weasley's were treating Granger so badly, he was simply being a real friend.

Draco was frustrated by the ruckus made his way towards it, as he considered it his duty as Head Boy to tell them all to shut up! His timing was not the best, though. He arrived just in time to see Granger burst into tears and run up the stairs in the direction of the Heads' dormitories and Weaselbee storming off. Potter, it appeared, had only moved enough to slide down the wall to seat himself on the floor. Draco resisted the urge to make a smart arse remark, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Potter, what's going on here?" He didn't even look up and Draco doubted Potter even knew that it was he who had asked the question.

"Ron's being a self-absorbed prick," Potter moaned. "I don't even know about Hermione. I know she's hiding something from me even though she says it's nothing. I know it's something but she won't let me in, you know?" In fact, Draco didn't know but he let Potter continue anyway. "And now, Ginny! I don't what's gotten into her. She's acting all different and she's all jumpy all the time. I swear she wasn't even this nervous through the war. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to fix this!" Draco realised that the-boy-with-the-ugliest-scar had passed the need for someone to actually talk to and Draco wandered off.

Gradually, Draco made his way back to the Heads' common room. There, he sat in front of the fire, staring into the depths. In this spot, Draco fell into a light sleep only to be woken a few hours later by the most bone-chilling scream he had ever heard. It was the single most horrifying experience Draco had ever lived through, including all the terrors of the past few years. As soon as Draco regained the use of his faculties, he blasted his way into Granger's room, expecting to see some on-the-run Death Eater torturing the girl to insanity. Instead, he found her embroiled in a nightmare. She was tangled in the sheets and sweating profusely, her hair sticking to her damp forehead as she tossed and turned; clutching at the sheets with trembling hands, her knuckles white from the effort, and her head thrashing to and fro on the pillows.

Rushing from the doorway to the bed, Draco felt the overwhelming need to comfort her; to protect her from the ghosts that so obviously haunted her. The fact that she was the mudblood Granger did not cross Draco's mind as he gathered her into his arms. All he saw was a small, terrified girl who desperately needed help, a human being who needed someone to cling to for comfort, protection and basic kindness. Draco sat on the bed, holding Granger and rocking her back and forth. She flung her arms around his neck and clung to him. Dor the first time, he noticed how skinny she was; the way her wrists protruded and he was sure he could feel her ribs. He wondered how healthy she was.

"Sh, it's going to be okay," he crooned, rocking back and forth, back and forth. Slowly, Granger calmed, though every now and then tremors would wrack her body. That night, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy had no differences. They were simply two human beings, two hearts. They were two people struggling to find matches or a light switch in a dark room, travellers journeying without the light of the moon to guide them. Their cloud did not have a silver lining, and there was only darkness at the end of the tunnel. It was in that way that two lost, young adults spent the night.


	5. Chapter 5

**A.N:**** Hey everyone, thanks for the reviews. PLEASE keep them coming. This is a shorter chapter but I really wanted to get it out. Just letting everyone know, Ron isn't going to be horrible throughout this fic, he will be getting better soon. There will also be a little bit more of the Golden Trio, I don't want to totally split them up. Also, since 'mudblood' on Hermione's arm thing is a movie thing it won't be in this fic, also because it won't really work with the story. Once again, thankyou thankyou thankyou, to all the people that reviewed – keep 'em coming. I love feedback on my writing whether it be good or bad. Happy reading. **

Hermione was angry with herself. After waking she had recalled the events of the day and night before with horror. She couldn't believe that she'd been so stupid and forgotten to place her usual silencing charms. Now, here she was, in the arms of Draco Malfoy – her arch enemy. They had spent the night together. All she wanted to do was escape; to run away. The problem was she was trapped within the arms that she had become disturbingly well acquainted with. So, Hermione did all that she could – replayed, in her head, the events that had lead her into her current predicament.

To begin the day before, she had been on her way out of the castle when her tremors, with their impeccable timing, made an appearance. She had fallen down a flight of stairs, sprained her ankle, and could not stand on her own. For over an hour she sat by herself at the bottom of the stairs, hoping someone with some compassion would come by. Unfortunately, the first person to come by had been Pansy Parkinson. At seeing Hermione, she had burst out laughing and made to walk away, but something stopped her. Pansy said nothing but she helped Hermione up and assisted her to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey had fixed the ankle in minutes and the girls left. Before they parted ways, Pansy stopped Hermione.

"Does anyone know?" she asked.

"What?" Hermione was shocked, not sure exactly what Pansy knew.

"Don't act naive!" the Slytherin warned. "I saw you shaking when we were waiting for Pomfrey, and I'm assuming that's why you fell down the stairs. Plus, even I can see you're way skinnier than you used to be. So, does anyone know?"

"No, I've never told anyone. How did you?"

"My mum, err, same thing happened. Everyone knows what happened to you at Malfoy Manor. And, um, my dad – he didn't treat my mum the best, you know? And, yeah, I could recognise it anywhere." Hermione didn't know what to say. It was clearly not an easy thing for Pansy to talk about and she had just shared it with Hermione. "Look, don't think this makes us friends or anything but, I know. Okay? And if you ever need someone to just know, I'm around." And without even a parting glance, Pansy left. Hermione stood there for several more minutes, stunned.

After all the drama that had taken place, Hermione was late to meet her friends at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. She recounted the story, but left out the part about Pansy, saying a first year had helped her. She felt bad lying to her friends, but she felt that she didn't have the right to tell them Pansy's story. Harry had been sympathetic and understanding, but she hadn't expected anything else. Ginny and Ron, however, had been a different story, and the Slytherin audience had not helped her mood. Fighting tears, she had fled, and for that she would never forgive herself; she had never been one to run away from a fight.

As always, Hermione found sanctuary in the library, safe in the familiar surroundings with her favourite books. It provided an immeasurable amount of comfort to Hermione, and had done so throughout all her years at Hogwarts. She had remained there for a few hours, but as she was putting her books away Harry had come to find her. Once he was close enough, he put his arms around her and she burst into tears. This time, she found comfort in her best friend. Sure, he didn't know everything that was troubling her, and he was well aware of that too, but he was there for her anyway, and that made it mean so much more. Ron, though, had also come to find her and seeing her in Harry's arms triggered something. Maybe it was jealousy, or maybe it was regret, or maybe no-one would ever know? The fight, however, had raged down to the Great Hall before it all became too much for Hermione and she, once again, shamefully fled.

Now, here she was, in bed with Draco Malfoy and she could sense that he was beginning to wake up. After his few, initial stirrings he stilled but Hermione felt the change in his breathing. Turning her head, Hermione immediately lost herself in the stormy, grey eyes that were staring at her. She lost herself in the confusion in them, the sadness and the loss. Though he was awake, Malfoy did not move, did not cease to hold her, and did not allow her to escape. He had questions; she could see it in his eyes. But there was something else as well; something had changed. Hermione could feel it, and she knew he could feel it too; this was one of those moments that occur few times in one lifetime. It was one of those moments that alter absolutely everything, and nothing will ever be the same again. And so they didn't move an inch, they lay there staring at each other, too scared to even blink; too scared of the irreversible changes in each other.

Gradually, the sun rose, and it was not long before sunlight glared through Hermione's window and onto the bed. Both Hermione and Malfoy knew that they could not remain in that same way forever and that reality would soon set in. The only real thing that had occurred in the past few hours was Hermione's tremors, but even then, Malfoy just held her closer and tighter until they stopped. Soon, however, a tapping was heard at the window. Unable to ignore it, Hermione disentangled herself from Malfoy and let it in. She recognised it as Harry's new owl and remembered that he would be worried after the previous day's events. Before opening the letter, Hermione sent the owl off and turned back to the bef. Malfoy was sitting up and she felt the need to explain partially, or apologise, or something.

Look, um, I'm sorry about last night. I forgot to put up my usual silencing charms." Hermione spoke quickly, trying not to stumble on her words and expose how nervous she really was.

"Usual silencing charms?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "That happens every night?" Hermione nodded silently. "Merlin!" Malfoy stood to reach out to her but she moved back out of his grasp.

"Don't!" she warned, unconsciously rubbing at her wrists.

"Why do you do that?" Malfoy questioned. "And what's with the shaking? And what about the nightmares? Why don't you take a dreamless sleep potion?"

"What's with the interrogation?" Hermione suddenly cried. "And the potion doesn't work on me, okay? It doesn't work!" She fell to the ground crying, but she was still trying to pull herself together. She hated Malfoy seeing her like that.

"No interrogation, Granger. I just, I don't know, okay? I guess I just care! I care!" Seeing that Hermione would not or could not pick herself up, he went over to her, gathered her into his arms and placed her back on the bed. "This isn't the Granger I know – I've known it since I saw you on the train. You're different. You don't fight anymore. It's like you don't have enough strength to fight anymore. And for some reason, I care. Just like, for some reason, I care that I can pick you up so easily because you're so damn skinny. I don't know why, Granger, but that's the way it is."

"But I'm just the Gryffindor, mudblood Granger, and you're, well, you!"

"I've changed too, Granger. I've grown up." Hermione realised that what he said was true. He had grown up and even she could see it. But, she was worried about what he'd said about her being skinny. She had never paid any attention to her weight before and she always ate until she was full. If she was losing weight and becoming that skinny, it meant that her condition was worsening; it was starting to become noticeable. That was definitely not good.

"I," Hermione started, and then paused, unsure. "I can see that you've changed." Malfoy nodded. With that one quiet, uncertain statement a sort of truce was made. They would avoid each other in public and they had to keep up appearances. But there would now be an unspoken agreement between them. They were not friends, it wasn't that simple, but they were definitely no longer enemies. Both were willing to accept that they could not be defined and were willing to just be. Because, sometimes, being was the most important thing of all.


	6. Chapter 6

**A.N:**** Can't believe how long it took to get this one out. I am sorry. But PLEASE read and review. I really do want your feedback, good or bad. Thanks. Happy reading **

Sometimes, we remember that which we forgot. Sometimes, we forget that which we have learnt. Sometimes, we run when all we want to do is stay. We laugh when we want to cry, and stay silent when all we want to do is scream. We get scared when we are perfectly safe and feel calm when in danger. We hide in the closet to escape the monsters under the bed, and we hide under the bed to escape the monsters in the closet. We fight our friends and push loved ones away, all the while befriending the enemy. We speak the truth to conceal the riddle. Sometimes, it feels as if we live our lives backwards and inside out.

Draco Malfoy often wondered how he could possibly forget, even if only for one night, that Hermione Granger was below him; a lowly, mudblood wench. Granger was not worthy of his company. And yet, he no longer wanted to insult her or be cruel to her in the hallways. All night, Draco would lie awake and worry about her; worry if she was having nightmares. Granger had not forgotten her silencing charms again and she had now started using locking charms as well. For some reason, he didn't like that she was using locking charms; didn't like that she didn't trust him. He also didn't like the amount of time he spent thinking about the silly little muggleborn.

It was after dinner one night, and Granger had, once again, locked herself away, and Draco had been sitting in their common room for hours simply staring into the fire. For the first time in his life Draco Malfoy was bewitched and tormented by a girl. Usually, it was he who did the bewitching; he was never the victim. The worst part, though, was that the girl in question was completely unaware of what she had done. Draco sighed. The silence and solitude were doing him no good, and he resolved to seek solace in his old house dormitories – perhaps there would be a witch there that he could distract himself with for a while. Snickering to himself with the thought of a conquest in the near future, he headed out in the direction of the Slytherin dormitories.

Slytherin house dormitories were located in the lower dungeons of Hogwarts. Of course, there were some dungeons even lower but nobody ever went there – even though it was not strictly prohibited. More like, it was something that every student who had ever been to Hogwarts silently agreed on. So for many years the lowest dungeons had been untouched, time smothering them with cobwebs, dust and all the other symptoms of abandonment. As with all the house dormitories, the entrance was hidden. In Slytherin's case, there was one stone, slightly different to the others, embedded in the wall and when tapped three times revealed a passage. Only a short way down, the passage came to what appeared to be a dead end. As Draco approached, he muttered, "sons of Salazar" and the wall opened to the common room. Despite the corridors in the dungeons being chilly, the common room was warmed by a roaring fire, and had an eerie glow as the windows faced out underneath the lake; the waters giving the room a green hue.

Sitting in the comfiest arm chairs, by the fire, were Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. They were sitting in perfect silence, as they were apt to do, and Draco – sick and tired of the way he was feeling – decided to have a little fun. If anyone else were in the common room Draco would never have acted the way he did, but as it was, it was empty, so Draco ran and dived at Blaise. They knocked the arm chair over, and began rolling around on the floor; faux wrestling. Pansy screamed, jumped up, and backed away. While she had once been used to the antics of the two boys, it had been a long time since they had joked and fooled around, and it thoroughly shocked her.

After a few more minutes the boys settled down, righted the chair, and calmed down. Draco had no intentions of speaking about what had transpired with Granger, and he didn't really know how he felt about that. He, Blaise and Pansy had always shared everything with each other; they'd shared all of their good times, but also the bad. When Blaise's parents had fled the war, abandoning him in the process, Draco and Pansy had been there. When Draco's father had been killed and he had no idea if he was going to Azkaban or not, Blaise and Pansy had been there. When Pansy's mother had been tortured and then slowly faded away, Blaise and Draco had been there. But they'd also been there for each other at birthdays, Christmases, growing up, and all the happy memories in between.

"So, what's cookin' good lookin'?" Blaise grinned. Pansy rolled her eyes.

"Nothing," Draco moaned convincingly, even though the little voice in his head was whispering that he was lying. "I am so bored!" Blaise laughed.

"Agreed! We need something to entertain us, I propose a game," he smirked, and Draco looked at him with interest.

"Oh no!" Pansy groaned, her face in her hands. "Last time you 'proposed a game' it was a bet about those two poor Hufflepuff girls!" The two boys laughed in remembrance, while Pansy glared at them.

"Don't worry, Pans!" Draco reassured her. "Been there, done that, and I don't play the same game twice." Blaise nodded in agreement. "So, Blaise, what were you thinking?"

"Well, a small, itsy-bitsy bet between the two of us?" Blaise raised an eyebrow in challenge, and Draco, never one to back down, gave a slight nod. "It has to be completed by the Halloween dance?"

"What Halloween dance?" Draco and Pansy asked in unison.

"The one Draco, as Head Boy, is going to suggest."

"Okay, but what's the bet?"

"Most conquests!" Blaise grinned, almost bouncing off his seat with excitement.

"Oh! That's disgusting!" Pansy yelped, jumping off her chair and storming upstairs. The boys weren't worried, she often reacted like that when they were beginning a new 'game'. Draco laughed at his friend.

"I can't wait! Although, I didn't realise that you so enjoyed losing, because there is no way you are going to beat me!" Draco boasted. Blaise simply laughed.

"We start tonight."

Draco was pleased with Blaise and his bet, he was sure that he would win, and hopefully it would drive thoughts of Granger from his mind. It was funny, he and Blaise had been making ridiculous bets for as long as he could remember, but they never bet money or anything like that. Both of the boys had more money than they could spend in three lifetimes, and all of the material possessions they ever wanted. Therefore, the winner of the bet always received the glory of it; the glory of beating the other and being able to gloat and brag about it. It made them even more competitive, though. Pansy, being much more girly, and having a much better moral compass, rarely took part in the bets, and mostly tried to know as little as possible about them. She was good for the boys though, because she always made them realise when they took things too far. For example, a couple of years ago there had been the bet involving the two Hufflepuff. The girls had been fourth years, and portrayed the stereotypical, virgin, nerd image. The boys had made it their aim to sleep with them. They had succeeded, the girls had been heartbroken upon finding out everything, and Pansy had not spoken to either boy for three months. The longest fight in the friends' long history.

On his way back to the Head's dormitories, Draco ran into a very attractive, Ravenclaw sixth year. It took twenty minutes of sweet talk, and her looking into his eyes, and Draco had her back in his dorms. He was not a total jerk, at least that's what he told himself, and they sat by the fire for an hour or two, simply talking. Draco found that, not only was she attractive, but was intelligent and had a fair few ambitions. They both knew that neither of them was interested in a relationship, but they would probably be good friends afterwards, and it was easy to be with each other that night. In fact, it was easy to be with each other multiple times that night. And not one thought of the bushy, brown haired, Gryffindor entered Draco's mind. Well, not until the next morning.

The next morning was bright, and Draco woke to the sun shining through his open curtains directly on to his face. He was about to turn over, but realised that the Ravenclaw was asleep on his arm. Sighing, he reached over and pulled his arm out from underneath her, attempting to disturb the girl as little as possible. She stirred, somewhat, but did not wake, and Draco left her there to go and shower. Draco showered quickly, ran his hands through his hair and grabbed the first clothes he could find. He couldn't be bothered putting in any effort that day, and he couldn't wait to tell Blaise that the bet definitely had begun. However, as Draco walked down the stairs to the common room, he realised that the Ravenclaw must have only just left the room as she was standing, frozen, about five steps away from the exit, and Granger. An odd sort of triangle was formed, where all three just stood and stared. It was Granger who broke the silence.

"Are you just going to stand there all day, or are you going to leave?" she snapped at the poor sixth year, and the girl ran the last steps and scampered out of the portrait hole. When it was just Draco and Granger left in the room, they went a long time without saying anything. Draco did not really know what to say. He rationalised that he had nothing to apologize for, but he couldn't help the niggling feeling of shame that came over him. Though, for all he was worth he could not figure out just why he felt ashamed. What had happened the night before was not a first, and certainly would not be the last, and he had never felt anything before. Finally, he cleared his throat, as if to speak. But Granger chose that moment to jump off the couch and run up the stairs to her room. She was only a few steps away, when the tremors wracked her body and she fell to the ground. But she persisted, attempting to crawl up those few steps while shaking like a leaf and Draco felt an overwhelming amount of sympathy.

In first year, Granger had been a stubborn, know-it-all and proud of it. In third year, she stood up to him the way no one else had ever dared, and punched him. This was a girl who had faced mortal peril countless times and laughed at it; conquered it. She had been proud, she had dignity. But as Draco, watched her failing even in her attempt to crawl, he wondered how they had gotten to this point. The point where she had clearly lost any pride or dignity that she had once had, and he did nothing. Breaking out of his stupor, Draco walked purposefully over to her, but as he reached out to help her, she completely broke down. Crouching down, Draco once again scooped her into his arms, carried her up the stairs, and laid her on her bed. Granger curled into a ball, crying and mumbling to herself. For the first time, Draco noticed that she was wearing a pair of trackpants that were so big she looked lost in them and a tiny singlet top that still hung off of her emaciated frame. He saw a girl that was utterly broken; who had nothing left.

Then, Draco did something that he would regret for the rest of his life; he ran into the bathroom and vomited. He threw up everything he had eaten since dinner the night before, and then when there was nothing left, he just continued to gag over the toilet. He did not know how long he stayed like that, but when he finally moved, it was to wave his wand and clean himself up. He ran out, wanting to be nowhere near the girl in those rooms, and hating himself for it. He ran through the halls, ignoring the people around him and pushing others out of the way. In the entrance hall, he found Pansy with a bunch of her girlfriends, grabbed her wrist, and dragged her along with him. They ran all the way down to the forest. There was a small clearing just inside where they had often used to sit, and that's where he had been headed all along. Once there, it was his turn to break down. Draco Malfoy sat and cried and let Pansy hold him. She held his head, while he lay against her. She stroked his hair and just let him cry. She had no idea what had lead him to this point, but she knew that it was something he needed. And when she had wanted to cry, she had always leant on him. Now it was her turn to return the favour. Draco's sobs eased and finally died down. But the two of them did not move. They had gone there in the morning, and only moved as the sun began to set. No explanations were needed, they would probably never even talk about it, but it was enough.


	7. Chapter 7

There was a full moon. It is a time where, in mythology, all the weird and wonderful things happen. It is a time where werewolves change, where dogs howl at the moon, and Selene, the moon goddess was known for her many love affairs. It was also the time that the Fluxweed needed to be picked for the Polyjuice Potion. As Hermione and Malfoy were partners it would have to be done together, but no one else in the class were as far ahead as them, and as such they would have to go into the forest alone.

Hermione knew that they would have to go that night, but she had been reluctant to approach Malfoy about it. She had thought that he was...different. She hadn't thought that he had changed all that much, nor did she think they would ever be friends or anything like that. To be perfectly honest, she didn't really know what she thought about him. But seeing him with the Ravenclaw, it had done something to her and it was something she didn't like. She didn't feel hurt or jealous, which could have been expected, it was more like a painful realisation. Hermione really didn't know him at all, and he had seen her when she was incredibly vulnerable; what if he used that information against her? As Hermione thought about it she became more and more panicked, until she remember the times that he had caught her, and how he had taken her up to her room. Why would he do that if he intended on hurting or embarrassing her? Nothing about him made sense, and as Hermione wasn't used to not knowing or understanding things, it made her nervous.

Pacing around her room, Hermione heard her fellow head enter the common room. She didn't hear him enter his room so she considered this to be the perfect time to gather her courage, and stop avoiding him like she had been doing, and let him know that they needed to go to the forest this particular night; otherwise they would have to wait another month. Taking a deep breath, and hoping that her body would not betray her, Hermione opened her door and slowly descended the stairs into the Heads' common room.

Standing on the bottom step, she observed the blonde sitting in the green arm chair next to the fire. The golden light flickered and danced with the shadows across his face and made him seem almost mystical. Sighing, Hermione took the last step and walked across the room so she was a 'safe' distance away but in his line of sight. Her shadow fell upon him, and so he looked up before she made a sound. A brief look of surprise flashed in his eyes, as he was so accustomed to her avoiding him, but he hid it quickly. Hermione was about to open her mouth and speak but he got there first.

"We need to pick the Fluxweed tonight. I talked to Professor Slughorn. He suggested that we head out around eleven o'clock. That way by the time we find them and pick them it will be just after midnight." Malfoy had looked at her as her spoke but as soon as he finished speaking he turned back to the fire. Hermione was shocked that he had remember but she refrained from commenting. She simply nodded, and exited the room to go down to the Great Hall for dinner.

Hermione had very little appetite and she would have preferred to skip dinner altogether but she knew she hadn't been in a while and Harry would start to get suspicious. And really, she didn't have anywhere else to go. She didn't want to spend time in the Head's common room because that's where Malfoy was, and he was too perceptive for his own good. Plus, even she got sick of the library sometimes, and she didn't want to spend even more time there anyway. At dinner, pushing the food around on her plate, occasionally taking a bite seemed to appease Harry when she had been down for dinner before, and he couldn't properly tell how much she ate because they didn't even sit together anymore. It was too awkward.

Sighing, Hermione forced herself to take a small mouthful. Glancing down, she could see the way her uniform hung from her frame, where it had previously fitted perfectly; there was no doubt that she had lost a considerable amount of weight. But what she supposed to do? She simply didn't have an appetite, because she didn't care enough to fight anymore, and she didn't have enough energy to fight anymore. In some ways, it was all just a vicious circle. But it was odd. This was the girl who had never let anything get her down. No matter what happened, she always bounced back. She was a fighter and she always had the answer. Now, now she felt like a little girl who had lost her mother in the store. The little girl who tried so hard not to panic and cry as she searched frantically for her mum, the woman who would always be there to provide comfort. Just like her weight loss, Hermione tried desperately to hide the loss she felt. She missed her parents terribly and wanted them there with her; to hold her hand as she went through this. But they weren't there. They were gone. And there wasn't even anyone to blame.

When enough time had sufficiently passed in order for Hermione to pretend that she had eaten her dinner, she discreetly vanished the rest of the food from her plate and left. She knew that she needed to go up to the common room. It was only eight o'clock and they didn't need to head out until eleven, besides before they left she would need to get her coat, scarf and gloves; it got cold at night.

Taking her time, Hermione made her way through Hogwarts' maze of corridors. She wondered about it sometimes; what had the founders been thinking when they started the school? Did they realise the legacy they would leave behind? Did they think about how fiercely proud the students would become of their houses? Did they know what sort of house rivalries would arise? How did they feel shaping the first students' young minds? Is this what they had in mind? If they came back now, would they like what they saw?

Or would they see the mistakes they made? Would they do things differently if they could do it all again? Would they try and promote more house unity? Would they change their method of sorting the students into houses? Maybe there would be courage and loyalty in Slytherin, or intelligence in Hufflepuff? Maybe Ravenclaw would value friendship and those who don't really fit in anywhere, or Gryffindor would encourage more cunning and stealth?

Hermione wished that she could go back in time. There was so many things that she would change. She'd do everything differently. She would spend less time studying and more time with her friends. She wouldn't spend so much time stressing about her classes and she would make more of an effort with Ron. She'd try and talk to Ginny, and make the younger, red head realise that she didn't need to feel threatened. Maybe she'd even try and talk to Malfoy, make him realise that there is more to both magic and life than blood status. But in the end, none of it matters. You cannot go back in time. It is irreversible and unforgiving, but it makes us who we are. Sometimes we learn from it and sometimes we don't but they're our own mistakes to make. No one else can make them for us. You just have to do what you feel is right at the time, and hope for the best.

When Hermione entered the common room, she noticed that Malfoy had not moved. Without saying a word she went up to her room, and occupied herself with flicking through her books for a little while. She wasn't in the right mood to read and the time passed slowly, even though most of it was spent staring into space. Suddenly, she was knocked back into reality by a knock on the door.

"Oi, Granger! You ready? We need to go." Hermione didn't bother to respond. Carefully easing herself up off the bed, she grabbed her warm coat and scarf and made her way out into the common room. Malfoy was also dressed in a heavy coat and he was waiting for her. They made their way out into the Entrance Hall, where Filch grudgingly accepted their note from Professor Slughorn, and out into the grounds.

They walked quickly in the frosty night air in an attempt to warm up slightly, but it was easily midnight by the time they reached the Fluxweed. Hermione was glad the darkness provided some cover for her. Her tremors had not let up and she had stumbled many times. She could feel scratches stinging her legs from where twigs and bushes had overgrown the path, and she could feel the dirt and tears on the arms of her coat. She also suspected that she had a graze across her cheek.

No time was wasted in the picking of the Fluxweed and they wrapped it up the way Slughorn had demonstrated in class. Hermione silently thanked God, Merlin or whoever the hell was out there that their excursion had gone well without disaster or anything extraordinarily embarrassing happening. And just then, bad tremors wracked her body, and she tripped over a fallen branch. Hermione threw her hands out to protect her face, but there was nothing she could do to stop herself from falling into the mud. The squelching of the mud as pulled herself up was heard by Malfoy who was a little way ahead and he turned around.

He stormed back to Hermione and held out his hand. Hermione was too proud to accept and continued her attempt to stand. A look of utter frustration marred his features, and he reached down, grabbed her by the waist, picked her back up and put her back on her feet. They made their way back to the castle without speaking, and Malfoy walked a few steps ahead. Although, every now and then he would look back and check on Hermione. Her front was covered in mud and she shivered every now and then from the cold that had seeped through. Once they were back at their rooms, she immediately disappeared into the bathroom, and when she emerged was dressed in a simple t-shirt and long pyjama pants. She retrieved a book from her room and curled up in front of the fire.

Malfoy watched her from the other side of the room. He had intended to go and shower but he couldn't take his eyes off Hermione. She seemed absorbed in her book but every now and then the shaking would start and then stop again a few moments later. He didn't know how long he stood there, but in time, Hermione put her book down, stood and went to go back to her room. She had yet to notice Malfoy standing against the wall but as she passed she reached out to steady herself on a table, as she shook like a leaf. He suddenly remembered the last time he had seen someone shake like that. Without warning, Malfoy lost control.

He slammed the still trembling Hermione against the wall and held her there. His strength easily overpowered her weak and frail body.

"Why?" he screamed at her. "Why?" He drew his fist back and she flinched as it connected with the wall, mere inches from her face.

"Because," she cried. "I'm a mudblood, remember?"Draco suddenly softened.

"Don't say it," he commanded softly but with fierce determination. The girl trapped between him and the wall gazed up at him. Fear and hopelessness clouded her brown eyes that used to be so bright.

Draco cupped her cheek, where the graze marred her tiny features, and used his thumb to brush away her tears. His eyes never left hers. He couldn't deny it or resist it any longer. Without leaving time for her to push him away, his lips crashed against hers. She didn't respond but she didn't push him away either. He gently nibbled at her lower lip and something suddenly changed.

Hermione melted and let herself get lost in the kiss. Draco pushed his body against hers. She was pinned against the wall, the hard stone against her back, but she didn't notice. All she noticed was how her small body moulded perfectly with his tall, muscled frame and how his lips had moved from her lips, across her jaw, and onto her neck. She, Hermione Granger, allowed herself to drown in Draco Malfoy and his passion.


	8. Chapter 8

**A.N. Hey guys. Thankyou so much to everyone who reviewed. I love you. Just have a few things to say before we dive back in. **

**I've had a couple of questions about it. I'm not killing off Hermione, though it may seem that way. If I was I would have had a warning or something about major character death.**

**Also, I know I can be a bit wordy and it seems like I go off on tangents some of the time. Like in the last chapter with the questions about the Hogwarts founders, and stuff about time. Sorry, if it gets annoying, it's just how I always writeand when I'm reading fics I like that. **

**I'm really sorry to all the people who really love Harry, Ron and Ginny. And I know it seems like I'm doing a bit of character bashing, but I honestly don't mean it like that. Everything will ease up in the end anyway, but I thought I'd just explain it all a bit.**

**Don't get me wrong in this story, I really like Harry. But he's stuck between a rock and a hard place. He really loves Ginny and Ron is one of his best friends and the Weasley's took him in like one of their own because he has no family. He feels like he owes them alot and he really does love them. On the other hand he loves Hermione, she is like a sister to**

**him and also one of his best friends. He knows that she needs him but he does have to try and juggle everything.**

**Ginny is not such a bitch, even though that's what she seems like so far. I'll have more about her later on. She is the youngest in her family and just feels natural jealousy. She's always been scared that Hermione will take her place. I am the youngest in my family and I have always been jealous of my siblings' friends because I was scared that they would take my place. But Ginny is not a bad person, and as I said before, it will lighten up.**

**Ron is a good guy as well, but he feels really guilty for what happened to Hermione. He feels like he let her down in the absolute worst way and that's why he can't face her. The only women he has really known in his life are his mother and his sister so he feels that instinct that a guy has to protect the girl. And when he couldn't protect Hermione from being tortured by Bellatrix he feels like he has failed. So that will ease up as well.**

**Anyways, hope that clears everything up. Please keep reviewing because I love your feedback. So, happy reading! :)**

Draco sat in Potions thinking about all that had transpired between himself and Hermione. Their potion was nearly finished and he had no desire to listen to Slughorn prattle on so he allowed his thoughts to wander. It had been three days since that mind-blowing, crazy, insane, never-should-have-happened kiss. And, true to form, the two people involved had avoided each other like the plague. Deep down, they both knew they would have to face the consequences eventually, but for the moment they were content to hide – like children hiding in forts made from their bed sheets. Really, it didn't protect them from anything and would fall down sooner or later but it provided comfort while it lasted.

The thing that Draco hated most, though, was that he still had no answers and he wanted them more desperately than ever. When he had seen her shaking the other night, something had clicked in the deep recesses of his mind and he wasn't sure why he hadn't realised it before. He had seen someone tremble and shake uncontrollably like that once before; Pansy's mother. Clutching at straws, he made a conscious effort not to think about how that had ended.

On the other hand, Draco couldn't forget how that kiss had felt, or how much he wanted it to happen again. Part of his mind was screaming at him that he had kissed Hermione Granger, his sworn enemy, but the other part was screaming that Hermione had grown up, was quite attractive and he just wanted to kiss her again and again and again. But that couldn't happen. They were too different; they came from different worlds. He was the Slytherin Prince; she was the Gryffindor Golden Girl. As wonderful, amazing, fantastic – arousing – as that kiss was, it could never, ever happen again. That was something he had to accept. Shaking his head, Draco attempted to zone back into the lesson. As he did so, he became aware that the eyes of the entire class were upon him. Slughorn coughed.

"Mr Malfoy, are you still with us?"

"Uh," Draco squirmed. "Sorry, sir. What was the question?"

"You are ahead in the brewing of the potion, are you not?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you were partnered with Miss Granger, yes?"

"Yes, professor," Draco swallowed awkwardly. He didn't really know what the point of the conversation was and it made him nervous.

"Since she is, for some reason, absent this lesson you will need to catch her up on what we have been discussing."

"Yes. Of course, professor." In reality, Draco had not heard one word that Slughorn had said that lesson but he had no doubt that Granger would already know it anyway. This interaction did, however, bring Granger's absence to the forefront of his mind. He had not noticed it before but he had not seen her that morning, either. Despite the fact that they were avoiding each other, it was impossible not to see her around the place and he found it impossible to ignore her presence. Draco wished fervently that he could drive her from his thoughts, but he was completely oblivious to just how he should go about that. He spent the remainder of the lesson pondering that particular mystery.

Once Potions was over, Draco headed back up to the head's common room as he needed to swap over some of his books; he had grabbed the wrong ones that morning. On entering, he saw Hermione curled up on the sofa. She looked terrible, not that he would be the one to tell her that, but he could tell that she needed the sleep and left her be. It did not take him long to make the swap, and get downstairs for lunch. He sat himself next to Blaise and didn't hesitate to dig in, especially, as he had skipped breakfast that morning. A nudge to the ribs caused Draco to splutter, and he turned to glare at Blaise who just chuckled.

"What was that for?" he growled.

"What did you do this time? Make another 'ya mum' joke to Potter?"

"Blaise, what in the name of Salazar are you talking about?"

"Potter, you idiot. He keeps looking over here, at you, when he thinks no one's looking. Hey," Blaise began to giggle. "Do you reckon he's got a crush on you? Aw, Draco and Potter sitting in a tree -" Blaise was cut off by a sharp jab to his own ribs, this time. His sense of humour, though, was remarkably different to Draco's so he just chuckled before returning to his lunch.

Surreptitiously, Draco looked up from his own food to see the Boy-Who-Just-Could-Not-Mind-His-Own-Business staring at him. In return, Draco gave him a highly exaggerated wink. Pothead glared and turned away. Draco smirked.

The afternoon passed without incident. Draco didn't have many classes with Gryffindors which made him much happier, and he did not have to return to his room so he didn't have any encounters with Granger. All of this made for a very happy Draco.

However, all good things must come to an end, and that included Draco's mood. Upon his exit from the Great Hall after dinner, he had intended to go to the library and return a book that he had borrowed before heading up to his room. Potter, it seemed, had other plans. Draco was not even half way to the library when Potter accosted him.

"What do you want, Potter? Or is Blaise right, you have an itch that the Weaselette just isn't man enough to scratch? 'Cause if that's the case, you're barking up the wrong tree."

"Malfoy, stop being such a prat. I wouldn't be here if I could see another option."

"Well, Potter, I must say that you've awakened my curiosity. But I do have better things to do than listen to you, so do hurry up."

"It's about Hermione."

"Oh, tired of the blood traitor and thought you'd move on to a dirty, little mudblood?" Draco sneered, but he was getting little satisfaction from taunting Potter about Granger. Somehow, the word mudblood seemed wrong for the girl, and the fact that he suspected Potter didn't know anything about what was wrong with Granger frustrated him.

"Can you shut up for just one minute?" Potter growled. "I'm being serious. I don't know if you've noticed, and I honestly don't care if you have or haven't, but Hermione has been pretty much on her own this year. It's complicated and I'm not going to discuss it with you, but I still care about her. She's like my sister, and is the most understanding person I have ever known, which is why it is easier for me to leave her alone for a bit. But I want to help her, I just don't know how because she won't talk about it. And I know something's wrong, and I know that she knows something's wrong, but I don't know any specifics. It's just all so messed up." Potter paused to take a deep breath and he pulled on the ends of his hair. "You live with her, okay Malfoy? And you don't seem to be as much of jerk this year. All I'm asking is give her a bit of peace, and if you can, make life a bit easier for her. Keep an eye on her. Please."

Draco wanted to laugh. He wanted to smirk and sneer. He wanted to mock. He wanted to act the way he always had. He wanted to insult Potter. But he couldn't. He couldn't do any of the things that he usually did. Because Harry-freaking-Potter was standing in front of him, practically begging him to look out for Hermione-know-it-all-Granger, and he actually cared. He couldn't turn his back on it this time. So, he simply nodded in silent acquiescence. Potter gave him a nod of thanks before leaving.

Changing his direction, Draco did not head to the library like he planned. Instead, he went back to his common room. He found Hermione where he had last left her, only this time her sleep was disturbed. She was tossing and turning, occasionally letting out small cries and whimpers. Sighing and accepting that things would never be the same again, Draco walked over to the couch and sat on the end; gathering Hermione into his arms he rocked back and forth, providing the comfort that they both needed.


	9. Chapter 9

**A.N: ****Sorry it's been soooooooo long since I've updated but I've been busy with school and whatnot. Happy Reading and please, please, please, READ AND REVIEW **

Time passes. It is one definite in life; one of the few definites in life. There is no freezing time, no reversing it, and no altering it. Time passes. The sun rises and sets, and the moon follows its path, always a few steps behind. Time passes in seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades, centuries, millenniums. It passes for the rich, the poor, the religious, the atheist, the magic and the muggle. And so, it passed for Draco and Hermione. Sometimes, it seemed to pass at a snail's pace where minutes stretched into hours and hours into days. Sometimes, it passed in the blink of an eye and before they knew it weeks had gone by.

They were not friends, but they were no longer enemies. Most importantly, they had an unspoken agreement between them that they would never, ever, speak of what occurred in their common room. No one must ever know. For in their common room, he was not a pureblood or a Slytherin, and she was not a mudblood or a Gryffindor. They were people, a boy and a girl, who had lost their place in the world; a boy and a girl, searching for something more.

Hermione sighed after waking up on the couch for the third night in a row; her back was not going to forgive her anytime soon. She stretched, cat-like, before rising from her cramped position. As always, the fire had died down and very little of its warmth remained. Today was a Hogsmeade weekend. She knew that she would have to make an appearance, not only because she was Head Girl, but because she knew Harry was still watching out for her and he would get suspicious if she missed yet another outing. She wished he didn't take so much notice. She didn't want his concern. It wouldn't matter in the end anyways.

Glancing at her watch, Hermione realised that Draco would have already left. Invariably, he was out of the common room before she woke every day. Part of her wondered what it would be like to wake up with him there, every day, and the other part of her was terrified of what that meant. She used to have such a firm grasp on everything, but she was sinking and she knew it. The thing she didn't know, however, was whether Draco's proffered hand would pull her to safety, or push her further underwater.

Hermione dressed, yet again noticing how her clothes hung off her ever shrinking form and, deciding to skip breakfast anyway, made her way down to the entrance hall. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she spotted Harry, Ron and Ginny. Her steps faltered slightly and she grasped the banister tightly, cursing the timing of her tremors for what seemed like the millionth time. Hermione has tried as hard as she could to not draw any attention to herself, but she saw the three heads turn in her direction. Taking a deep breath and holding her head up, she proceeded to walk past the three Gryffindors and out the front gates.

As usual, her progress was slow and cautious. It wasn't too long before the unmistakable read hair of the two Weasley's stalked past her; shocking her by not even glancing her way. For a moment, Hermione wondered why the black head of hair was not with them but as she felt an arm around her, she realised he had stayed behind to walk with her. She took a second to hope and pray that she would not start shaking while Harry was holding her; that would lead to too many questions.

"If I asked how you were doing would you tell me the truth?" he began.

"What do you want me to say, Harry?"

"I don't know. I don't know what you should say, or what I should say, or what to do! I don't know how to fix this, Hermione. I could do all of that other stuff, but this, this I don't know how to make it better!"

"You can't, Harry, but it's okay. That's okay. You don't have to fix everything."

"But Hermione, don't you get it? Since first year, you've always been there for me. I mean, everyone calls me a hero, but I'm not. I couldn't have done any of it without you." At this, Hermione turned to face her best friend, and looked into his green eyes.

"Harry James Potter, you're my hero. Don't you know that? You always have been. And you saved the world, Harry! No one can ask for more than that. You always want to save everything and I admire you so much for that, but some things are beyond saving."

"Don't say that! You are not beyond saving, Hermione! You just, you need to talk to me. Tell me what's wrong!"

Hermione placed a hand on Harry's cheek and he leaned into it slightly. They simply looked at each other for a few seconds, memorising each detail of the other's face. Harry broke the silence.

"I have to go. Ron and Ginny are waiting for me." Hermione smiled to let him know it was okay and that she understood, and with one last hug, he left. And Hermione was on her own once more.

It was not a great distance from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade, but the path ran along the edge of the forest and at that time of day it seemed more isolated than usual. Those who wanted to spend the entire day at Hogsmeade had already left, and everybody else would not come until later in the day, so Hermione really was all alone. She had truly meant what she told Harry, she didn't expect him to save her and that was okay. When she had first realised what the long term effects of the Cruciatus Curse were, and what that would mean for her, she had been angry. She had cursed the world and wanted to destroy everything around her. But it was different now; she had come to terms with it.

Tremors suddenly wracked her body and Hermione lost her footing, falling to the ground. She lay there for a few minutes, not even attempting to control her body as she shook. Then she lay there for a few minutes more, trying to get her breathing under control, as at present it was coming in gasps and pants.

Hermione became aware of the sound of approaching footsteps. Quickly, she scrambled to right herself, and she had not quite recovered when the owner of said footsteps came into view.

"You're weak, Granger," commented Pansy Parkinson.

"I'm fine," Hermione spat. Despite this, Pansy helped her to right herself.

"You shouldn't be in places like this alone, Granger. It's dangerous for someone in your condition." Hermione knew that Pansy was right but refused to acknowledge it, so the Slytherin girl just shrugged and continued on her way. Hermione hated that Pansy was right.

As she had only come to Hogsmeade to keep up appearances, Hermione went straight to The Three Broomsticks, unwilling to waste her energy with the various shops and sites of the village. After ordering a Butterbeer from Madam Rosmerta, she secluded herself at a half hidden table in the corner of the pub. Honestly, she knew she was being ridiculous; she couldn't very well keep up appearances while hiding, but hiding is always easier than confrontation.

Looking around the pub, Hermione smiled as she recognised some of the younger faces from school and she remembered all the times she had spent in Hogsmeade and The Three Broomsticks with Harry and Ron. Her smile quickly faded. If it were a story book life, they would have all lived happily ever after and been best friends forever. But that wasn't real. In stories, people want you to believe that when a war is over, people bond and it brings them closer together. Hermione knew this was a lie; war did the opposite. War tears people apart and ruins relationships of every kind. Because in the end, seeing those people just reminds you of everything you want to forget.

Hermione's peace was not destined to last and she was soon joined by yet another Slytherin.

"So, Granger, tell me, how much, exactly, do you enjoy sharing a dorm with the Slytherin Sex God?"

"Go away, Zabini."

"Oh honey, you can call me Blaise. But really, once Draco's through with you, I'm free."

"Leave me alone, Zabini."

"Come on, Granger, you used to be feisty! I bet you're a vixen in bed!"

"Zabini!" Draco suddenly appeared and interrupted. "If you want to reproduce at any time in the future, I suggest you leave right now!" Unconsciously, Hermione cowered a little in her chair as Draco practically growled. Zabini winked at Hermione, threw a smirk at Draco, and sauntered off. Draco and Hermione were silent for a moment.

"Is that what everyone thinks, that we're sleeping together?" Hermione questioned, feeling inexplicably hurt. When Draco hesitated to reply, she left the pub as fast as she possibly could.

Draco swore to himself. Blaise had just been stirring up trouble and he knew he could mess with Draco by messing with Granger. Blaise, though he often played dumb, was extremely good at figuring people out and he knew that there was far more going on between Draco and Hermione than either would admit. Draco hadn't answered Hermione straight away because he simply hadn't known how to explain that Blaise had just been being Blaise.

On his way out of the pub, Draco ran into the Weasels and Potty. Potter looked at him as if to say "not now", but nodded him in the direction that Hermione had headed. Draco was not overly worried. He had noticed how slowly Hermione was moving these days and knew he would have no trouble catching up to her.

She seemed to be heading in the direction of the Shrieking Shack and Draco took off, brushing past Pansy as she came out of Honeydukes.

Hermione was three quarters of the way to the Shack when she tripped over a stray rock and landed painfully on her hands and knees. Sighing, she stopped to inspect the damage. There was a hole in her jeans and her hands had been grazed to the point of bleeding. Having suffered far worse after being best friends with Harry Potter for well over six years, she brushed herself off and kept going.

However, she barely took another five steps before falling back down with a gasp. Although her tremors did cause her slight pain, it had never been like this before. Pain rippled through her body, in sync with the shaking that overwhelmed her. Hermione had never been one to panic in stressful situations, but she did now; fully aware of her predicament. She was alone, vulnerable, in pain and was not in control of her own body. She was not even within screaming distance of anything or anyone. In all the times she had contemplated this moment, she had never thought it would be like this.

As though through a fog, she thought she heard someone call her name, but dismissed it as her imagination. Moments later, she lost consciousness.

Draco called out as he saw someone collapse and ran over. It was Hermione. He could feel her heartbeat, she was alive. But just how bad was her condition?


	10. Chapter 10

**A.N: ****Here's another chapter, lots quicker than usual. Please, please, please, READ AND REVIEW. I have been absolutely loving the positive feedback and it really inspires me to write more, so thank you so much. Happy Reading **

Draco sat beside the hospital bed as he had for the past four days. Hermione had still not awoken. Idly, Draco stared at the unruffled, perfectly smooth, white sheets covering the bed and he wondered if he had officially lost his mind. He had sat beside an empty bed for the past four days and listened to whispers and soft cries through the curtain that separated this bed from the one in which Hermione lay. He knew that he was not welcome at her side; not welcomed by the people that had ignored and tormented his girl all year. Her so-called 'friends' only came to her when they realised that they could lose her forever. He, who had watched her fade and wither away month after month, was forgotten. Or perhaps, no one knew that he ought to be remembered.

So things remained the same and Madame Pomfrey indulged him by allowing to sit by an empty bed day after day. Pansy and Blaise had come to visit him, but he was almost as unresponsive as Hermione. They said nothing, bringing him food at meal times, but for the most, they let him be. The days dragged on, but night approached quickly. Madame Pomfrey ushered everyone out of the hospital wing, everyone except Draco. She realised that making him leave was useless; he simply snuck back in later on.

Because after the annoying little Gryffindors had left, and Pomfrey had administered the nightly dose of potions, Draco would emerge from behind his curtain. Ignoring the wooden chair at the end of the bed, and the plush armchair to the left, he took his place on the right side of the bed, half laying on top of the fragile girl. There, he would hold her hand, stroke her arm; play with her hair, anything that kept him in constant contact with her. And he would tell her stories about the antics he had gotten up to as a child, fascinating tid bits of the wizarding history that his ancestors had lived, myths, legends and fairytales.

The pale, blonde haired boy would almost glow in the moonlight, looking almost like an angel, and as he told tale after tale, he silently prayed to whatever god that would listen for Hermione to wake up. Draco would not sleep at night, refusing to relinquish even a moment of his precious little time with the bushy haired know it all. He slept during the morning, refusing to go to classes, dreaming of the girl who had so surprisingly crawled under his skin. And he did it from behind his curtain.

On the fifth day, Draco received a visit that was not from either Pansy or Blaise. The visit was from Potter, and it was Draco's first variation in human interaction since the day he found Hermione.

"Why do you sit here behind this damned curtain every day? Why hide? Why not just sit beside her rather than beside an empty bed?" Potter interrogated. Draco shrugged and silence fell.

"You care for her don't you?" Potter demanded, albeit his tone was far gentler this time. Again, Draco only shrugged in response. Frustrated, the Gryffindor Golden Boy lost his temper. "Do you care about her or don't you? Hermione doesn't need someone messing with her at the moment!"

"Shut your mouth, Potter!" Draco stood and raised himself up to his full height, several inches taller than Potter. "Do not question me or what I do! Besides, how would you know what she needs? Where have you been the past few months? You didn't care then; you left her on her own! So screw you, Potter, I'll do whatever I want!"

Harry Potter was stunned into silence and left as Draco returned to his seat. The Slytherin hated openly losing his temper, it went against his nature, but the annoying, self-righteous prat brought out the absolute worst in him.

As the sun was setting that afternoon, Draco decided that enough was enough, and he sought out Madame Pomfrey, who was currently in her office. Without pausing to knock, he sauntered in and took a seat directly across from Pomfrey separated from her by the desk.

"What can I do for you, Mister Malfoy?"

"What's wrong with her? How bad is it? What will happen to her?" Draco gushed all at once.

"What has she told you?"

"Nothing, though I've made a few guesses."

"Miss Granger is experiencing the terrible long term effects of the Cruciatus Curse and her body is failing her."

"She can't die," Draco almost pleaded.

"I am sorry, Mister Malfoy, but most people who were tortured as badly as she was do not survive the lasting effects."

"There must be something you can do, some sort of treatment, anything!"

"That's precisely the problem, Mister Malfoy. Although some of the effects, such as the shaking, would be permanent most of the physical problems can be healed. You must understand, the Cruciatus Curse is the absolute worst form of torture, and the purpose of any form of torture is to break the victim. Miss Granger has been broken, not just physically, but mentally; she has simply lost the will to live."

"I don't understand," Draco admitted.

"How can I explain?" Madame Pomfrey paused to think for a moment. "When a muggle loses all hope, when they lose their will to live, it does not affect their body; physically they are healthy though their mind is not, and they will continue to live as they always have done. It is different for magical folk. Wizards and witches commit suicide, not because they have completely lost their will to live, but because their desire to die is stronger. People of magical blood, muggleborn, pureblood, or somewhere in between, live to be far older than muggles because of their magic. It is our magic that we live off, Mister Malfoy. Miss Granger has been tortured to the extent where she feels she no longer has a reason to live. Her magic is dying and her body is shutting down."

Hours passed, though Draco was not aware of it. He thought about Pansy's mother. He had know she died due to the long term effects of the Cruciatus, but he had never really understood it, neither had Pansy or Blaise, but he did now. And it horrified him and terrified him that Hermione may reach the same fate. He refused to let that happen.

Once again, when everyone had left and Pomfrey had finished, Draco crept out from behind his curtain. This time, however, instead of sitting on the bed, he crawled in beside Hermione's tiny frame, gathering her into his arms. As was now usual, Draco began his story; this time it was one his mother used to tell him when he was a little boy. Tonight, though, he did not get more than half way through before stopping.

After his conversation with Pomfrey that afternoon, everything had changed for Draco. Was he in love with Hermione? No, but he did care about her, a lot. And he was in very real danger of losing her. Hermione was self-destructing, it was obvious, but how do you stop someone from practically imploding?

Draco pulled Hermione closer, carefully because it was not at all difficult to feel her ribs and hip bones protruding somewhat frightfully. She desperately needed to gain some weight. Giving a resigned sigh, Draco knew that he would have to do the one thing that he really did not want to do; have a conversation with the Boy Wonder. There was no doubt that Potter was Hermione's best friend, and he need to be there for her if there was any hope of saving her.

"Come back to me, Hermione," Draco whispered. "Please, I wish I knew what you need."

Draco remained silent after this, not returning to his story telling. Wide awake, he held her in his arms the entire night. She was small, fragile, broken; a princess thrown from her throne, his princess.

Inevitably, dawn came and as the first few rays of sunlight crept through the window, Draco gently lay Hermione back on the bed and reluctantly returned to his post on the other side of the curtain. There, he dared close his eyes to gain some much needed rest, though it was nowhere near enough.

Some time around mid-morning, he woke and not long after received a visit from Pansy and Blaise. Although he had known the two for so long, they never ceased to surprise him. They did not question his vigil in the Hospital Wing, nor did they judge or patronise him. Inexplicably, they seemed to understand what he could not. However, Draco needed to be alone and they stayed no longer than a half hour.

Later in the afternoon, the blonde boy was surprised to find that Potter had visited alone the Weasels were nowhere to be seen. Unwilling as he was, Draco knew that this was, most likely, the best opportunity to approach the other boy, and so, for the first time during the daylight hours, he opened the curtain. Potter looked at him in obvious shock.

"Malfoy," Potter acknowledged.

"We need to talk," Draco sneered, hating how he felt that he had to do this. "About Hermione; what do you know?"

"Everything; I, uh, talked to her healers at St. Mungo's."

"And they told you everything?"

"I may have pulled a few strings. I am 'The Boy Who Lived', after all." Draco was secretly impressed by these Slytherin-esque tactics.

"As much as I loathe saying this, Potter, she needs you. You can't keep blowing her off like you have all year. And you need to tell the Weaselette to back off." Surprisingly, Potter nodded.

"Believe me, I don't want to say this either, but I think she nee think we're going to actually have to tolerate each other to get her through this." This time, it was Draco's turn to nod. She needed the both of them, so they couldn't be constantly fighting. He made no promises for how he would act around the Weasel, though.

The boys did not shake hands or anything formal like that, they had spoken as much as they ever would on the topic and the rest was just silent agreement. It was time to grow up, even if it was just for Hermione's sake.

Draco disappeared back behind his curtain and it wasn't long before Potter was joined by the Weasel and the Weaselette. Hushed whispers drifted through the barrier between them but Draco was unable to discern what was being said and he quickly gave up trying. Honestly, he didn't really care what they had to say, but it did break up his fairly monotonous day.

Night came, slowly but dependably, and Draco made his way to Hermione, taking her up into his arms once again. This time, he told her the only muggle fairytale he knew. It was one that, although favoured by girls, he had always loved for some reason; _The Little Mermaid. _It was a story about a mermaid, but a princess, who dreamed of the world, of more than what she had. She gave up her family and everything she knew and loved for the unknown. She loved and she suffered greatly. This incredibly young girl loses absolutely everything, including her life, but because she was good and true she gains something else entirely, and the pain was worth it.

But Draco's favourite thing was that despite how terribly she suffered, she hid the pain, she had no choice.

"_A mermaid has no tears and so she suffers even more."_

Draco knew why he had chosen this particular story, but he hoped that his princess would have a different fate. He held her tighter, as if he could physically hold her together. He thought he felt her grasp at him as well, but realised that that was crazy. He was just tired and desperate.

"I wish you could just tell me what you need, Princess. I'd do anything, get anything for you?" he whispered.

"You, just you." Draco gasped and looked down to find her big, brown eyes looking up at him and glistening with tears. "Can you just, hold me? Please?" Draco nodded and held her tighter still.


	11. Chapter 11

**A.N:**** WOW! Been such a long while since I updated, and for that I am so sorry. And for those of you who are still reading despite my terrible updating THANKYOU so much I really appreciate, and to everyone who reviewed you have no idea how much I love you & I'm so glad that you like it! This chapter is a bit shorter than I regularly post but I really wanted to get it out, so...happy reading and please review! Thanks guys **

Hermione woke with a start and the first thing she saw was the white ceiling and stark curtains of the hospital wing. She frowned, struggling to remember how she got there. She remembered Hogsmeade and her encounter with Zabini and then...nothing. Not until – she gasped.

"Draco," she whispered. When she did not get a response she paused, only then realising that there was something heavy restricting the movement of the left side of her body. Manoeuvring the rest of her body carefully, Hermione found Draco's arm and leg covering hers and the rest of him was practically falling out of bed. His hair was falling across his face, so she reached out and gently brushed behind his ear. Their relationship had changed this year, and Hermione suspected that it had changed yet again while she had been unconscious but she was glad it had. It was just about the only thing keep her going.

Draco squirmed in his sleep and Hermione sighed. She knew exactly what was happening to her; the Healers at St. Mungo's had explained it all in great detail. It still surprised her a little though, she never thought that she would be the type to lose her will to live. But somehow, she had. It was just another thing that the war had stolen from her.

The sun was shining brightly through the window but Hermione had no idea what time it was. Despite how peaceful Draco looked as he slept, she nudged him softly. He shifted, slightly, but did not wake. She nudged him again.

"Draco," she whispered, though slightly louder this time. He began to stir. Hermione gave him a few moments, but then started to shift herself.

Draco's eyes opened slowly and he looked up into Hermione's warm, brown eyes. Both knew that at some point they would have to talk about what had happened, what was happening, but for now they said nothing. Those few moments were everything they needed to be and more; moments of perfection that the two of them were terrified they would ruin.

Realising he was half draped over Hermione, Draco scrambled to right himself. Despite his haste, he did not miss the hurt in Hermione's eyes, nor the way her body shifted away from him. Cursing himself, Draco now saw the insecure and inexperienced girl beside him had misinterpreted his eagerness to move.

"Hey," he said softly. When she refused to look at him, he tilted her chin towards him. "Hey, I just didn't want to crush you." Almost imperceptibly, Hermione nodded before whispering back.

"Can you, can you just come up here? With me?"

Draco could see how nervous she was and how scared of rejection. Instead of replying, he crawled up onto the bed and, gently pushing Hermione forward, Draco situated himself behind her so that she was between his legs with her back against his chest. Draco wrapped his arms around her and they stayed like that for a long time.

Neither one of them knew how long they stayed like that – it was one of those moments where time no longer mattered; time became just another label. Unbeknownst to the strange couple, Madame Pomfrey had come just slightly around the corner and observed their embrace, and later on in the day McGonagall had spied them but wisely, none had interrupted them. That is, until well into the afternoon when two contrite Gryffindors arrived at the hospital wing, intending to make their own sort of amends.

Throughout Hermione's entire stay in the hospital wing, her section had been curtained off so that no wandering or curious students could find their way to her bed and so Ron and Ginny Weasley did not find it at all odd when they found it that way, particularly because they had no idea the patient was now awake.

Pulling back the curtain for his sister, Ron was the first to spot the couple entwined together and asleep on the bed. Ginny, following her brother, rapidly jumped to conclusions and began whispering to Ron, outright accusing her of being a whore. Ron, however, was not so quiet nor so easily persuaded that Hermione was associated with the Slytherin and while he jumped to his own conclusions, he pointed the finger in the opposite direction.

"You slimy ferret!" he yelled, startling the sleeping pair into consciousness. "How dare you? Who the hell do you think you are? What kind of sick, perverted, evil freak takes advantage of an unconscious girl?" Draco began to move but was surprised to find Hermione clinging to him, her eyes pleading with him to stay there, with her. While Draco would have preferred to face Weasley standing up and face to face, he did not want leave Hermione or go against her wishes and as such found himself debating the issue from his position on the bed, wrapped around Hermione.

"She's awake, you dim-witted twat! And I was hardly taking advantage of her, we were both asleep!"

"Don't make excuses, ferret! I've seen this with my own two eyes, and now you're going to have to deal with me! You're lucky Harry's not here too!"

"Ron, shut up!" Hermione suddenly interrupted.

"Her-Hermione, you're awake! When did – I mean, when?" Ron stuttered and stumbled over his words now that he realised Hermione was conscious, though often slow to catch on, he knew that things were not as he initially assumed.

"I woke up this morning, Ronald. And had you come in here like a civilised human being you would've seen that Draco is not doing anything that is against my will, in fact he is doing exactly what I have asked him to do." Hermione spoke calmly and quietly but she was determined, and despite her weak body, her speech seemed more powerful than ever.

"You are such a slut!" Ginny suddenly exclaimed, and Draco suddenly shifted from behind Hermione. As quickly as she could, Hermione grabbed his arm to, at the very least, slow him down.

"Say it again," Draco dared, in a lethal whisper. "Say it again and I will personally make sure that your brother, boyfriend and everybody else in this school finds out about your little escapades down in the Slytherin dungeons, are we clear?" Fearfully, Ginny nodded, and barely glancing at Ron, all but fled from the hospital wing. Ron looked at the empty space where his sister had been standing, then looked to Hermione who merely shrugged, then to Draco who glowered, and then back at the space where his sister had been.

"What just happened?" he asked, bewildered at the strange turn of events, and secretly wondering if he had been Confunded.

"What are you doing here, Ron?" Hermione asked, changing the subject with her quiet question. "After everything that's happened, the way you've treated me, the things that you've chosen to ignore, why are you here?"

"When we all got back from Hogsmeade the whole place was buzzing with rumours about what had happened to you, and me and Harry, we came here you see, to see if it was the truth? I, I saw you laying in that bed and you looked so tiny and pale, we knew something was seriously wrong and I just, I couldn't believe that I've ignored you for so long. I ignored all the signs that you weren't well. I talked to Ginny about it last night, and I honestly thought she felt the same way I did, that's why she was here today. I need to apologise, Hermione, and I needed to make it right."

Hermione sighed, thinking about what her former best friend had said. Also feeling Draco slide back onto the bed behind her she leant back against him, thinking about what she should say. She knew how she had felt all year, how Ron had made her feel, but there was a part of her that couldn't help but picture that eleven year old boy she had befriended and that she had faced peril after peril with.

"Ron, an apology doesn't always fix everything," she began. "You say that you need to make it right but just saying that you're sorry doesn't make it right. You threw away so many years of friendship, and were just plain cruel to me when I needed you the most. What happened that day, Ron, at the manor, was not your fault. I'm at peace with the fact that it happened, I've moved on. And although it will always haunt me, I'm learning that I can't let it control me. You can't either. I needed you Ron, and while understand that you're sorry, I can't easily mend what you've broken."

"Hermione, please, I'm so sorry!"

"I know, Ron. And maybe, maybe one day, that will be enough and we can somehow rebuild what we had. But for now, I don't know how to forget what you've done. The forgiving part is easy; it's the forgetting that's a problem." Ron didn't say another word. He stared at her for a few seconds, gave a small nod of acceptance, and left.


	12. Chapter 12

**A.N.:**** I know it has been so long since I have posted but I had so many directions I could go with this and just could decide. Now, I know things have escalated really quickly in this chapter but please don't hate me. It had to happen and some things I will come back to or go over later. Just trust me please, I beg of you! **

**Happy reading! **

Days passed and in the isolation of the hospital wing it was easy for Draco to forget the seriousness of Hermione's condition, it was easy to forget that she was slowly deteriorating, her body shutting down. Madame Pomfrey has a strict regime of potions and charms that she administered to Hermione's failing body, but while they controlled her condition, they did not improve it. Admittedly, Draco noticed that the tiny girl's hip bones did not protrude quite as much as they had been. Her tremors, while still frequent, were less severe. Her mood was slightly more positive and she was less despondent. However, these changes were subtle and because they did not considerably affect the condition itself, they went unnoticed by all but Draco.

Spending most of his time in the ward, Draco would overhear snippets of conversations, arguments, fights and disagreements. Most commonly, he would arrange himself to be in a position where he would accidentally be able to overhear the disagreements that transpired between Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall. The two women, who were most actively involved in Hermione's care and recovery, disagreed and frequently fought over what they considered to be in their student's best interest. Madame Pomfrey wanted to send Hermione off to St Mungo's for more concentrated and, hopefully, more effectual care. Professor McGonagall, on the other hand, wanted Hermione to stay at Hogwarts, return to her classes, and definitely did not want to separate the young Slytherin and Gryffindor. Draco, personally, was intrigued by the invested interest McGonagall had, not only in Hermione, but in them both; together.

After a particularly heavy snowfall, Draco was seated by Hermione's side working through a particularly gruelling Potions Essay when he felt Hermione's gaze on him. He looked up and found Hermione staring at him looking thoroughly unimpressed. Draco was shocked; this was the most fire and emotion he had seen in her in a long while.

"It's stopped snowing," Hermione pointed out. "It was snowing but it's not anymore."

"Really? You don't say," Draco dead panned, proving his Slytherin traits were still out in force, despite his concern (or softness) when it came to Hermione.

"Don't be an ass, Draco. I can barely see anything from where I am. Do you realise how long it's been since I've really seen anything?" Draco paused to consider this. While there was a window across the room, it was difficult to see much from Hermione's position. He also considered the window seat across the room. It had a back rest to lean on and was padded and incredibly comfortable. He could testify to this as he had slept on it on more than one occasion. It was intended for visitors but Hermione did not have many of those due to her condition. However, Draco was not concerned with the comfort of others. He thought about what the seat would look like with a few extra cushions, a couple of pillows and a pile of blankets.

Hermione, believing she wouldn't receive a response, laid back down with a sigh. Even the slight bit of energy had tired her somewhat. While her gaze was elsewhere, Draco's wand flicked a little and the desired pillows and cushions appeared. Then, without warning, he scooped Hermione up out of the bed, blankets and all, carried her across the room and deposited her on the makeshift lounge/bed he had created.

Brown eyes lit up and Draco was astonished by the difference it made. He was more astounded, however, when he realised he could not remember the last time he saw that amount of life. He only received a quick glance from Hermione before she was looking out the window with utmost fascination. Hogwarts in the snow was a sight to behold and a small smile graced the witch's face. Hermione was enthralled as she watched students walk around the snow covered grounds; Draco was equally enthralled watching Hermione's reaction. It seemed not all the life in Hermione Granger had been lost.

Draco seated himself partially behind Hermione and partially to her side, careful she would not be able to fall from the seat. Neither was aware of how long they remained in this position but it showed them that they were something. What they were could not be defined, but it was there and it was something and it was enough.

More than one tremor tormented Hermione in this time, but after the first Draco wrapped his arms around her tiny frame and every time it happened he would hold her tighter. It comforted them both and if anything was going to hold Hermione together, it just may be this.

The spell was broken at the sound of the large door's bang and Madam Pomfrey's slightly hysterical reaction.

"What on earth do the two of you think you are doing? Out of bed? In your condition? You should know better, the pair of you!" Madame Pomfrey lectured as she bustled around the room, arranging things so she could send her patient back to bed. Draco was the only one who heard the small sound Hermione made; a small sound that sounded suspiciously like the beginnings of a laugh. A small sound was all it took was to ignite Draco's hope. It was a daring, brave hope that could potentially bring the proud wizard to his knees, but he could not resist it. What if there was a chance?

Madame Pomfrey gently levitated Hermione back to the bed and as she did Draco stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him. Hermione looked on in dismay, wondering what had happened, having no choice but to remain where she was.

Logically, Draco knew he shouldn't have run out the way he did but he was not thinking rationally. Angrily, he made his way to his room, giving several detentions and deducting quite a few points along the way. He was furious with himself. He was furious that he had developed feelings for a know it all Gryffindor, he was furious that said Gryffindor was so bloody fragile, so broken, he was furious at himself for having a hope.

Hope could crush him. He knew this. If he hoped, and the end was bed, it could destroy him. But what if it wasn't false hope? What if there was a good outcome? What would he do? What did it mean for them? While Draco's beliefs and attitudes and behaviours had changed over time, the society he was part of had not changed. It was incredibly uncertain whether there would ever be a future for them. If Draco was honest with himself, he didn't know which alternative would be worse.

Hermione didn't see Draco again.

She knew he was scared and she knew things had changed for the both of them and that it was harder for him than it was for her. She wished he hadn't run, but she knew why he did. She wished it didn't hurt so much, but she knew that hurt was good. Pain meant that she could feel again and it was so much better than being numb. Mostly, she knew she had to get better because if she didn't she would never get the chance to slap his annoying, blonde, ferret-y self. She would never get the chance to kiss him the way she wanted, to run her hands through his hair or to feel his hard body pressed against hers.

There was no cure for Hermione's condition and the road ahead of her was long. But she was the brightest witch of her age and would prove it. She would work with Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall and Professor Slughorn. And at the end of the road, Hermione knew Draco was there and if she could just get there, she would find him.

When word got around the school that Draco had left, an old friend made his way to see Hermione. A black haired, green eyed friend. He was a friend that came alone, and sacrificed many relationships to do so but like Hermione and Draco he made a choice. He stepped up and became a man. He became a man and stood by the girl that had always stood by him. The girl who had held him up when he could no longer stand and he knew, he had to do the same for her.


End file.
